Johnlock: Our song
by Johnlocksinthetardis
Summary: Sherlock and John use an unusual method to find their song. feels and Johnlock!


Sherlock sat up in bed and yawned. It was light outside, a nice day. Silently, he walked towards the bathroom for a shower. He tried not to make any noise, he didn't want to wake John up. Mumbling, John sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes. Sherlock smiled and held back a chuckle. John looked like a hedge hog, with his sandy blonde hair standng up in all directions.

"Sherlock?" He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"It's alright, I'm just going for a shower. Go back to sleep."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll start with breakfast. You want any?"

"I don't know. Not sure if I'll have any cases today, if I do I don't want to have my brain slowed down by digesting."

"I'll take that as a no, then."

Sherlock gave him a quick smile before walking into the bathroom and closing the door. John stood up, flung his dressing gown on and walked to the kitchen. He'd have to go shopping again, they were running low on everything. Sighing, he took out two Weetabix and placed them in a bowl, adding the last of the milk and some sugar.

"Sherlock, I'll have to go shopping later today, we're out of nearly everything."

John waited for a reply, but he wasn't sure if Sherlock had even heard him. He carried the bowl to his armchair, where he sat down and ate his cereal. It was seven o' clock, and John started his new job at nine. It was similar to his old one. Same job, different place. He didn't want to be in the same place as Sarah, it seemed too awkward, considering he'd nearly got her killed. So he left and found another hospital close by. Same hours, a bit more pay. He could always use the money anyway. Sherlock walked by him and sat in his own armchair. His hair was still wet, although he'd dried himself off and put on his good blue dressing gown. John finished his cereal and put the bown in the sink. Casting a look at Sherlock, he walked into the bathroom and flung a small towel at him.

"Dry your hair, you're dripping on the floor."

Sherlock picked the towel up and rubbed it over his head, trying to dry it. He walked up to John and bent down.

"Better?"

Running his hand through it, John smiled. "Better."

"Good. You better get dressed or you'll be late for work."

"I know, I know, I'll get ready now. Care to join?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

John laughed and tugged Sherlock to the bedroom. Smiling, he turned to him and said, "Let me guess. Black shirt, black suit, blue scarf, big black coat?"

"And gloves, don't forget gloves."

"Of course, the gloves."

"And let me guess, Mr Watson. Check shirt, little knitted jumper, dark jeans and boots?"

"Sounds good to me."

John gave him a cheeky smile and pulled his robe off. He stood for a second, admiring Sherlocks body, before turning around to rummage through his drawers. He pulled out black boxers and socks and flung them in his direction. He then found a black shirt and suit and lay them on the bed carefully. He knew what Sherlock was like if you weren't careful with his things.. John snapped his fingers and walked into the livingroom. Sherlock had already put his suit on when John came back in a few seconds later, blue scarf and gloves in hand.

"Your coat is on your chair."

"I know, thankyou." He said, taking his things from John's hand. "My turn now."

Sherlock stood behind john and slowly pulled off his t-shirt. He was already in his boxers, he hadn't worn any proper pyjamma bottoms the night before. He hugged John close and planted a line of kisses on his neck, working his way up. John chuckled and took his hand. He both loved and hated when Sherock did that, it was his own way of teasing John, making him want more.

"Are you going to kiss me or dress me?" John asked, catching sherlocks face in his hands.

Sherlock seemed to think about the choice for a few seconds before sighing and stepping back. "I suppose I better dress you. Can't have you going to work like that, people will be all over you. And nobody should touch what's mine."

John loved when Sherlock called him his. It felt amazing, to be loved by someone who hated everyone. Like he was special. Sherlock walked back to him with black boxers, white socks, a pale blue checketd shirt, a navy and white striped jumper and dark denim jeans in his arms. He picked up the shirt and handed it to John, feeling almost sad as he watched his boyfriends muscled chest disappear beneath the fabric. John pulled the jumper over his head and picked up the black boxers. With a wink, he pulled off his underwear, feigning shock when he saw Sherlock was looking.

"Are you watching me, Mr Holmes? How very rude."

"I never was one for being polite." He smirked, eyeing up John as he pulled on the boxers and jeans.

John grinned and put on his shoes and coat. He was just about to leave when Sherlock stopped him.

"Fix your hair, you look like a hedgehog. It's cute, but I don't think it looks very professional."

"Oh, okay, thanks." John attempted to flatten his hair several times before grabbing his wallet and phone from the coffee table.

Sherlock pulled on his coat and faced John. "Ready?" he asked.

John nodded and they walked out the appartment, Sherlock locking it behind them. John didn't actually have to get a taxi to work for another fifteen minutes, so Sherlock liked to go and get a coffee with him before he left. They walked down the stairs and headed outside. The sun was shining, but a nice breeze made sure it was a managable heat. As they walked side by side, they approached John's favourite cafe, a little place called 'Aunt Anne's'. It had a homely feel to it, with smiling waitresses and pale yellow walls. They sat down at a small table and waited to be served.

"Hello! My names Heather, what can I get you?"

The girl had a thick Scottish accent. Sherlock figured she must be from Glasgow. She had thick chocolate locks, falling down to her hips, kept out her face with a hairband. Her eyes were chocolate brown, to match her hair, and her pale skin had a dusting of freckles around her nose.. John smiled and asked for a coffee and a tea. Heather nodded and came back a few minutes later with their order. John took the tea and added some milk and a sugar. Sherlock drank his coffee black with two sugars.

"Will you have fun solving murders without me?" John asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, of course. A murder is always fun, with or without my boyfriend."

"Wow, you sure know how to make me feel loved there, Sherlock."

"Have I upset you?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm fine. I'll have just as much fun healing sick people as you will shouting at Anderson."

"Nothing can compare to shouting at Anderson. I will miss you though. I've grown quite used to having you praise me for observing the obvious."

John sook his head with a smile and drank the rest of his tea. "I better get a taxi, now."

Sherlock nodded and placed a five pound note of the table. "Keep the change." He said to Heather.

Together they walked out the cafe and onto the pavement. John flung his hand out and in a few seconds a taxi pulled up next to him. Sherlock placed a kiss on his forehead and smiled.

"Bye."

"See you after work. Bully Anderson for me."

Sherlock laughed and watched as the taxi drove away. Better phone Lestrade, he thought. Taking his phone out of his pocket, Sherlock phoned his friend.

"Lestrade! It's Sherlock. Got any crimes for me?"

"I was walking down the stairs and my dog ran inbetween my feet and, well I fell down the stairs and landed on my shoulder and now it hurts!"

John's patient babbled on about her shoulder. She seemed to be in quite a lot of pain, but wouldn't shut up long enough to let John get a word in.

"I'll exami-"

"You know, if this is a dislocated shoulder you'll have to pop it back in! That'll hurt. Can I have pain killers before you do that?"

"Actually I-"

"Infact don't give me any painkillers. They always make me feel groggy. Just do it! I won't even scream! Much. I hope."

"Mrs Brown! Will you please be quiet and let me examine your shoulder?"

Mrs Brown opened her mouth, closed it and nodded.

"Thankyou..."

John set to work feeling and poking the woman's shoulder. After a few minutes and a few hisses of pain, John was certain it wasn't dislocated. She had just hurt it when she landed, nothing serious.

"Mrs Brown, you shoulder is not dislocated and I won't be having to pop it back in. All you need is some painkillers and rest." He handed her a bottle of pills."Take one of these every morning and night for a week. You'll be fine in no time."

Mrs Brown thanked John and left his office, the bottle in her hand. John sat in his seat and sighed. He's been working for hours and he was itching to get home. He loved his job, but some days were just tiring, especially if the patient was like Mrs Brown. He hoped Sherlock was having a better day than him. One of them should at least be happy. The clocked ticked slowly, and John found himself watching it, urging it to move faster. Twenty more minutes and he was free. Could he manage twenty more minutes? A knock on the door pulled John from his thoughts.

"Come in."

The girl who walked in looked incredibly familiar. He racked his brain trying to figure out where he'd seen her before. She came in and sat down on the chair opposite him.

"Hi. I'm-"

"Heather!" John said, remembering at last. She was the girl from the cafe.

Heather smiled and nodded at him. "I came to see you about my hand. I tripped in work today and landed on it funny, I think I've broken my wrist. Could you look?"

John smiled and took her out stretched hand. Her wrist was already swelling and the bone looked as if it was popped out to the side. Tenderly, John flipped her hand over and placed his fingers softly on her wrist. He felt her twinge in pain and apologised. Nodding at her, he gave a small smile.

"Yep, I don't need an x-ray to tell that you've broken your wrist. I'll just pop you in a cast and give you some medicine and you'll be good to go."

John carefully wrapped Heathers arm up in a cast and gave her some pills. After he told her when to take them and how long she'd to keep the cast on, he realised that his shift had ended fifteen minutes ago. Grabbing his coat, he called a goodbye to the nurse and stuck his hand out for a taxi.

Climbing in the back, he said to the driver, "221B Baker Street, please." And off they went.

Sherlock lay on the couch waiting for John. He'd solved the case an hour ago and now he had nothing to do. Usually when he was bored John would do something with him to stop him complaining or trashing the apartment. He should be on his way home now, Sherlock thought. John chose that exact moment to walk in. He took his coat off and gave a stretch. Sherlock smiled as he looked at him. John always seemed to have such good timing.

"Hello, there." he said as John walked towards him.

John grinned and stood behind Sherlocks head. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Sherlocks lips.

"That's all I get? I solved a murder and insulted Anderson, plus I've barely kissed you all day, and one one measly peck on the lips is all I get? Unbelievable."

Sherlock shifted over on the couch to make room for John. With a gentle sigh, he lay down next to him and placed his head on his chest. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him and turned him so they were face to face.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just I'm exhausted. Been a busy day. Good for you with the murder though, I knew you'd solve it. You're bloody fantastic when it comes to solving things."

Sherlock felt himself warm uo at Johns compliment. 'I know. How was work?"

"Well, quiet at first but then the waiting room was packed and I had to see to everyone. There was this woman, Mrs Brown, who wouldn't shut up long enough for me to speak. I was torn between leaving and punching her in the face. That girl Heather came in though.'"

"Heather?"

"The girl from the cafe. You met her this morning. Broken wrist."

"Ah."

Sherlock studied John. He look tired and worn out, like nothing good had happened to him that day. Carefully, Sherlock untangled himself from John and stood up. Taking out his iPod, he sat it on the dock, turned the volume up and swivelled to face John.

"C'mon."

John sat up. "What?"

"Dance. The first song that plays will be our song."

"You're finding our song using your iPod?"

"And you say I'm not romantic."

John laughed and stood infront of Sherlock. Looping his arms around his boyfriends neck, he stared into his eyes. They were such vivid blue, like two tiny clear ponds swirling and churning.

"Oh, go on then. Press play."

Sherlock pressed play and put his hands on John's waist as they swayed. The husky voice of John Rzeznik filled the room. Sherlocks eyes lit up as he realised John was singing the words, the biggest smile on his face.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you,

Cos I know that you feel me somehow.

You're the closest to heaven I'll ever be,

And I don't wanna go home right now"

John smiled brilliantly and moved in time with the music. Gripping him tighter, Sherlock sang along with him.

"And all I can taste is this moment,

And all I can breathe is your life.

When sooner or later it's over,

I just don't wanna miss you tonight!

And I don't want the world to see me,

Cos I don't think that they'd understand,

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am..."

John and Sherlock stayed swaying till the end of the song, their own voices merging together beautifully. Sherlocks low and husky, John's light and soft. John threaded his fingers through Sherlocks hair and slowly pulled him closer. The hands of time stopped as their lips moved together as one. Sherlocks lips were urgent against John's, trying to express all he felt for the amazing man in one kiss. Johns lips smiled against his and he pulle back a few centimetres. His hands now cupping Sherlocks face, he said one sentence.

"I think we just found our song."


End file.
